Las Mujeres de mi corazón
It’s been some time since I’ve written on my blog, but I’ve been wanting to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) about this for sometime. In this maze I’ve been stuck in since quitting my job, more, and more, I think of the women I have descended from.
I love history, almost any type of history, and I’ve done some genealogical research on my own family that usually leads to dead ends; in part because of my heritage which is a combination of Native American and Hispanic. The Native American piece is difficult to track, because no one in my family seems to know from what tribe these women came from - speculation lends to the belief they were victims of kidnapping by Spaniards that settled in the southern part of Colorado in the late 18th and early 19th century. I don’t come from Mexico, no one in my family does, I can trace my heritage to Colorado about 5 generations, while it was still a territory. I do know that Spaniards settled in the southern part of the United States in what is now New Mexico and southern Colorado. Both of my parents’ families descended from the southwest area in Colorado known as the San Luis Valley - which was the first known settlement in Colorado. Although there are some similarities, the culture and language of this area is somewhat different than what is seen now in traditional Mexican culture. Needless to say, my family and ethnicity is quite the anomaly for me.
The only insight I had into my family was my parents. Especially my mother. As a child and into my adulthood, I have hounded the poor woman for information. Being the oldest of 10 children, she remembers her father and mother’s parents well and is my most reliable source. Although she spent a majority of her time with her maternal grandmother, she also spoke of visiting her paternal great-grandmother. These women, as well as others in the family, factor so much into the constitution of the women in my family today.
Her most vivid memories of childhood are being raised by her maternal grandmother, making the mile long trek down the dirt road from her grandmother’s house to attend daily mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe. She learned how to cook, clean and care for her younger siblings in her grandmother's tiny one room adobe house. She also recalled traveling a great distance with her father in a wagon to visit her great-grandmother deep in the mountains. She was a widow, who lived alone on her property she once shared with her husband. She is actually referenced in the book “Conejos Country” by Frances Mead as the “Chicana's Annie Oakley”. She was accustomed to protecting her property, farm and sheep from marauding natives in the area and was renowned for her healing abilities and sharp-shooting skills.
And that’s just my mother’s side...I haven’t even touched the women from the paternal side of my family. But I’ve listened to stories from my father and cousins, and it gives me a strong indication of where I get my wild streak from.
Aside from my own father and my maternal grandfather, I don’t have any prominent male figures in my family history - it’s all women. As my sister so aptly described they were “strong, hard-working, humble, God-fearing, with wits of steel...” I see these traits in my mother, my aunts, my sisters, even myself.
I never knew these women, but listening to the stories my mother tells me, I know they live through me and I wonder what they would think of me. These women aren’t in history books - but they were pioneers; they were influential in that they helped shape the territory that eventually became a state, and they did it without a man by their side. They were very strong and self-sufficient. Nobody wrote down their side of history, and it was instrumental in this culture I call my own.
I could write a book just on my mother’s experiences alone, (however, she would be mortified and likely disown me) but to put into words the history of these incredibly strong-willed women - that would be epic. I stop and think how their strength has been passed down to me. They left me a legacy just by the way they lived their lives...and I want to pay homage to that. Maybe because I want to leave my own legacy for my daughters and their children and grandchildren. What better way than to write down their stories...
I love history, almost any type of history, and I’ve done some genealogical research on my own family that usually leads to dead ends; in part because of my heritage which is a combination of Native American and Hispanic. The Native American piece is difficult to track, because no one in my family seems to know from what tribe these women came from - speculation lends to the belief they were victims of kidnapping by Spaniards that settled in the southern part of Colorado in the late 18th and early 19th century. I don’t come from Mexico, no one in my family does, I can trace my heritage to Colorado about 5 generations, while it was still a territory. I do know that Spaniards settled in the southern part of the United States in what is now New Mexico and southern Colorado. Both of my parents’ families descended from the southwest area in Colorado known as the San Luis Valley - which was the first known settlement in Colorado. Although there are some similarities, the culture and language of this area is somewhat different than what is seen now in traditional Mexican culture. Needless to say, my family and ethnicity is quite the anomaly for me.
The only insight I had into my family was my parents. Especially my mother. As a child and into my adulthood, I have hounded the poor woman for information. Being the oldest of 10 children, she remembers her father and mother’s parents well and is my most reliable source. Although she spent a majority of her time with her maternal grandmother, she also spoke of visiting her paternal great-grandmother. These women, as well as others in the family, factor so much into the constitution of the women in my family today.
Her most vivid memories of childhood are being raised by her maternal grandmother, making the mile long trek down the dirt road from her grandmother’s house to attend daily mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe. She learned how to cook, clean and care for her younger siblings in her grandmother's tiny one room adobe house. She also recalled traveling a great distance with her father in a wagon to visit her great-grandmother deep in the mountains. She was a widow, who lived alone on her property she once shared with her husband. She is actually referenced in the book “Conejos Country” by Frances Mead as the “Chicana's Annie Oakley”. She was accustomed to protecting her property, farm and sheep from marauding natives in the area and was renowned for her healing abilities and sharp-shooting skills.
And that’s just my mother’s side...I haven’t even touched the women from the paternal side of my family. But I’ve listened to stories from my father and cousins, and it gives me a strong indication of where I get my wild streak from.
Aside from my own father and my maternal grandfather, I don’t have any prominent male figures in my family history - it’s all women. As my sister so aptly described they were “strong, hard-working, humble, God-fearing, with wits of steel...” I see these traits in my mother, my aunts, my sisters, even myself.
I never knew these women, but listening to the stories my mother tells me, I know they live through me and I wonder what they would think of me. These women aren’t in history books - but they were pioneers; they were influential in that they helped shape the territory that eventually became a state, and they did it without a man by their side. They were very strong and self-sufficient. Nobody wrote down their side of history, and it was instrumental in this culture I call my own.
I could write a book just on my mother’s experiences alone, (however, she would be mortified and likely disown me) but to put into words the history of these incredibly strong-willed women - that would be epic. I stop and think how their strength has been passed down to me. They left me a legacy just by the way they lived their lives...and I want to pay homage to that. Maybe because I want to leave my own legacy for my daughters and their children and grandchildren. What better way than to write down their stories...
You've written several times about trying to figure out what you are going to do next. Maybe during this interval you should try writing some short essays telling the stories you've heard. It would be a great service to your daughters -- and the women you admire so much. I'd love to hear them, too.
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